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Nothing hits quite like an italicized "oh".
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Swirls Divider - Pink
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Requested by @ayrusss
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“... believing in me to lead this important story that's not only about acceptance, identity, and self-truth but about disfigurement and disability, subject matter that's been long overlooked by our own bias and comfortability and projection”.
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“how did you get into writing” girl nobody gets into writing. writing shows up one day at your door and gets into you
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Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring dir. Peter Jackson
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hi! i really like your dividers! if it's alright, could i get like a pink minimilst one, with shades of it going lighter and like bits of white? and if you can maybe like a marble effect (you don't have to do this!) tysm!! your graphics are beautiful <3
Hello lovely! Thank you so much - I hope you like these!
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Requests are OPEN!
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THE MUMMY 1999 — dir. Stephen Sommers
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Storm Dividers
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Requested by @morganlefaye13​
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Yesss 🥵
Pretty Desperate Thing
Ransom Drysdale x f!Reader
Holy BEJEEZUS, MINORS DNI
Warnings for SMUT. (I have never written anything like this before, but sometimes the brain just writes what it writes. If this is not your cup of tea, please DO NOT READ. Everything I've written so far is much softer. This is not that.) Kinda degradation, name-calling, objectification where did this come from, spanking, unprotected sex, faintly dub-con and why did I enjoy this so much, like omg dirty-talk, pretty sure that's it I'm going to hell for sure.
Send snacks. Ransom counts as a snack.
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Something about the way Hugh calls you his 'pretty, pretty, little whore' sounds so caring you melt. The words make you melt to your knees, melt to bend over, melt into the mattress, and Hugh follows.
You've earned extra money for a while cleaning houses, but you actually stopped working for the business months ago. Now it's just him. Now he has your number and texts you directly.
"I'll need you here to clean up after."
That's the day it started, him talking to your back while you scrubbed the toilet. He threw a party that night. Rich friends, richer idiots, hot girls, hotter women. Hugh texted you too early, and you had to stand there at the door waiting for the guests to file out slowly, laughing at your clothes as they drunkenly stumble by.
He doesn't even say your name or invite you in. He just stands there holding the door open a little longer.
Hugh looks around while he pushes the door shut, grumbling, "messy fuckers."
There's something about the way that Hugh is instantly alone after everyone's left--no lingering amusement, no waves goodbye, no plans for next time--that hollows out of piece of your gut to see. Truth be told, you've wanted to jump this prick's bones for...well, forever, but it's the sad puppy dog hiding behind gold-plated steel that just breaks you.
Actually, it bends you. It bends your knees right to the floor at his feet while you grab at the fastening of his jeans and paw at his crotch.
Hugh groans out a 'fuck' with no mention of you stopping, no shock other than that his blue eyes weren't on you at the moment you broke. He's mostly still soft by the time your lips hit him, but that's changing rapidly.
"Shit, honey." The words hit you like a sugar rush. "Such a fucking whore for it, aren't you?"
You become instantly addicted to the way he grows in your mouth as his groans get louder. It's sloppy and needy because if you hesitate for an instant, embarrassment might take over and ruin your chance to see him finish. You've imagined his face when he cums frequently and you want to know whether he unravels with a relaxed and open mouth or a clenched jaw and creased brow.
From the effort he exerts to thrust to the back of your throat, your guess is the latter.
The thumb of the hand he's sunk into your hair pets back and forth as he mutters sick praises--"such a pretty whore," "that tight, wet mouth, baby," and "stop before I say, and I won't fuck you."
Hugh may as well be serenading you by the way your panties cling tighter with every word. He edges himself with your mouth. You're surprised how little he makes you gag for it. He prefers movement, it seems, your soft lips moving slickly over the smooth shaft of him. He pulls you off and strokes himself while demanding you give due attention to his balls. You have to push his clothes farther down for that.
You love how noisy he is; this memory alone will carry you for years, you're sure of it. Every foul pant of 'slut' and 'dirty girl' strains your flustered heat when he simply adds 'my' before them.
"Fuck, yes, my pretty little whore. So desperate for me."
And then finally, "get up."
Your thighs can't stop clenching as you rise, relishing his darkened sea gaze that travels the length of you, uncaring how vulnerable he should be with his dick in hand and his hurried breaths.
"Get in there." He ticks his head towards the guest room closest to the foyer (because you hadn't made it past the welcome mat until this moment).
He grabs your ass harshly on the way, making you scuttle faster. You've barely made it to the bed before he pushes between your shoulder blades.
"Hands."
His voice has dropped significantly, much like your leggings as he rips them down, biting at the back of your thigh while he tugs the springy fabric off of just one foot. He just needs them to spread. You don't need to be free.
The tremble that wracks you is half-excitement, half-fear, and you are all for it.
He slides the head of his cock through your folds. No pressure to it, just a pull across your lips and clit like he's got all day to torturously pet you, to watch while you can't see, to stake ownership on your time as well as your body. Then he slowly works two fingers inside you, leaning across your back so his breath cascades across your flushed neck.
"Is this how you do it, huh? Work yourself open for me every night?" He feels how little resistance your sweet sex offers and adds a finger. "Toy or fingers, baby?"
Your brain is liquified goo electrified by his curling fingers.
"Not a talker," he tsks sadly, "but hopefully a screamer."
Hugh rolls his thumb in circles around your clit while his fingers pump. You can feel your walls tighten in anticipation, a tension wrapping around your insides powerfully fast.
"You don't mind taking me raw, do you, pretty thing?" His free hand comes up to stroke your cheek. "You want this slut cunt filled, don't you, baby."
Fuck his words send you right over the edge, and while you spasm in bliss, Hugh switches his fingers with his cock and thrusts deep inside you, growling at the feel of you sucking him in with different lips. Filth spews from his mouth, though you can't discern the words spoken into the shirt still on your back. He takes the chance to compose himself while you come down.
He leans back to stare at himself buried inside you, and without pulling back, his fingers trace where you're stretched around him.
"My sweet, little slut," he groans low, "sweet as I ever imagined."
The thought of him having wanted you, too, for any length of time before this moment, has you arching back against him. It makes his fingers dig against your ass, and Hugh is all too keen on continuing to soften his pretty whore in any way possible.
His palm comes down hard against the swell of your ass, sending you forward and back onto him. He doesn't even have to thrust. You do all the work, crack after crack against your jiggling flesh. He lets you know how much he likes that, you doing all the work, you breaking a sweat while he stands and watches you fuck yourself on him.
"That's it, baby. There're my screams."
As the drag of him edges you closer and closer to another orgasm, Hugh either takes pity on you or just gets impatient. Your rhythm falters.
"Such a hard worker," he chides. "Lay down for me, pretty whore, and I'll help you finish the job."
You whine when he pulls out cruelly slow. Your legs are so shaky, unsteady as set jello, that he has to help turn you, stripping off the rest of your clothes and his.
"Shh, baby, just a little more work and you can lay there like the dirty thing you are." He's kneeling and bent over you in one smooth motion, stiff cock pressed against your dripping slick, teasing a nipple in his mouth. "That's what you want, right? To be my pretty little cum dumpster."
You cry out as he ruts against you, so willing to do anything for this man to fuck you senseless. You're ninety percent there already.
"That's it--" he aligns himself and sinks back into your heat until fully sheathed "--desperate little whore wants to come, too, huh?" His excitement is fed by your endless whimpers and moans. Somehow the intense pumps into you and lewd slap of skin against skin feel nicer than you imagined. His attention is fixed on you, judging and full of awe all at once.
"Fuck me," you finally yell out, because if you don't put as much power behind the words as possible, you may die without the friction of his punishment. "Fuck me harder, please."
And your words fuel him just right. Hugh bites at your collarbone while his hips snap with bruising devastation and the head of him pounds at just the right spot within you. It's the perfect pain. It's the slap of climax that launches you into a song of scream, and that drags him over the edge with you.
His profanities don't slow with his thrusts though. Even as his body settles, his mouth moves faster.
"My fucking perfect, pretty little whore--ahh--tighter than a vice for me," he mumbles against your neck.
Then the unexpected happens.
Hugh's head lifts to yours, and he kisses you hungrily. After you've sucked his dick. After he's come inside you. After all the filthy things he's called you. Hugh tongue-fucks you like a needy teen. If you weren't delirious before, you are now.
While you two make out, he still rocks his hips against you, even as his erection fades and cum squelched out of you. It's filthily intimate, and you honestly don't know how to interpret it.
There's a want beyond sex that travels across your body with his hands until he grips your ass again, planting one last solid smack on you before breaking away with a gasp.
"Looks like you've got a lot to clean, baby. Better get to work."
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So I've never really written anything kink before. No clue if this is good or bad, and I weirdly don't care (?) because at least the earworm is out now. Hopefully, someone else can enjoy this for what it is: completely unplanned, basically unedited filth. Sorry, not sorry. This counts as writing practice. I'm sure someone told me that once.
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Facetime with Bucky:
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YOU MAKE ME 💦 SERIES ↠ 23/??
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DEV PATEL as THE KID
Monkey Man (2024) dir. Dev Patel
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DEADPOOL & WOLVERINE (July 26 2024)
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ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏᴏᴅꜱ ᴡɪʟʟ ꜱᴡᴀʟʟᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡʜᴏʟᴇ
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Films watched in 2024 - Pride and Prejudice (2005)
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endurance | March 26th Theme: On Your Left @catws-anniversary
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